


That Awkward Moment When --

by ghostboi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Protective Dean Winchester, fairly chaste its my first time for this fandom too ahhh, impulsive action on dean's part really are you surprised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 21:22:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3333296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostboi/pseuds/ghostboi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is Sam. & Dean's protective. Back off, creepy creeper at the bar.<br/>One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Awkward Moment When --

**Author's Note:**

> So. First fic for this pairing/fandom (that I've actually written; had tons in my head, ha). Feels a bit rushed, i'm uber twitchy over whether it's worth putting out here at all.

They were somewhere just inside the Colorado state line. It was their third roadside motel in a week. Three jobs this week, two of which were fairly easy and one which had been a real bitch. And a witch, on top of that. Literally. Damn witches.

Dean climbed out of the Impala and stretched, wincing as he felt his spine pop in several places. He heard the passenger door open, saw his impossibly tall brother climb out of the car. He cringed as he heard the other man’s spine cracking as Sam stretched his own long limbs. “I’ll grab us a room,” he shoved Baby’s keys in his front pocket and headed for the office.

Ten minutes and one short conversation (“Just passing through,” and “No. No! We’re brothers!”) later, and he was unlocking the door to their rented room. He strode in, casing the place with his eyes as he tossed his duffel on the bed closest to the door. He heard Sam enter behind him as he moved to check the bathroom – empty, and relatively clean. “Nice place,” he turned upon hearing the smirk in Sam’s voice to take in the room’s décor. Blue and white striped wall-paper, several framed images of beaches, a lamp in the shape of an anchor. “Really?” Dean shook his head, “Are we rooming on the S.S. Minnow or what?” “Who cares,” Sam locked the door and tossed his own duffel on the free bed, “It has beds and it’s clean. Mostly.” The bed springs creaked as Sam threw himself on the mattress. “Pretty nice,” his voice was muffled by the pillow his face was now buried in. “Enjoy it, princess,” Dean smirked, smacking his brother’s foot as he passed by, “I’m grabbing a shower, then you’re grabbing a shower, then we’re going for a couple of drinks.” “So bossy,” came the muffled response. 

Several hours later, the brothers sat in a booth at a local diner. They had just finished their meals and Dean was digging into a piece of not-too-bad-at-all coconut cream pie. “You gotta try this pie, Sammy,” he muttered through a bite. Sam raised eyes to him and chuckled, “I’m good, Dean. Thanks.” “No, seriously,” Dean forked a bite and leaned forward to shove it under his brother’s nose, “It’s got coconut in it. It’s good for you!” “I’m goo-“ Sam started to repeat his response when Dean shoved the bite in his mouth. “Dean-!” he sputtered around the dessert. Coconut cream was smeared across his mouth and halfway down his chin, and Dean couldn’t hold back his laugh. “It’s good though, right?” he grinned as Sam snatched a napkin to wipe the pie off his face. Before Sam could respond, or even give him the bitch face, they heard, “Aw, aren’t ya’ll sweet?” Their waitress, Debbie or Darlene or some D-name, was standing next to the table, cups of coffee in hand. She shot them a smirk as she sat the cups down. She pulled their check from the pocket of her apron and placed it on the table, saying, “Whenever ya’ll are ready, sweetie.” They watched her walk to another table before Dean turned and asked, “Why does everything think we’re together? Like – together together?” “I don’t know, Dean,” Sam shot him a smirk, “Could it be because you’re shoving pie down my throat?” “Pssh,” Dean huffed as he grabbed the check and started to stand, “If we were together like that, it wouldn’t be pie I was shoving down your throat.” He froze suddenly as the realization of what he had just said to his brother sank in. His eyes flew to Sam, who was staring at him with a look of surprise and what could easily be mortification. “I didn’t –“ Dean felt his cheeks reddened, “That’s not – I didn’t mean it like that-- Shut up.” He turned and headed toward the register, mentally smacking himself in the forehead. That was definitely not something he had ever intended to say to his little brother. Ever. He shook his head – yeah, he and Sam definitely spent too much time together. 

He paid their check and queried about the local watering holes from their waitress. She had given him the name of a place down the street – they had passed it on the way here – and a three-star recommendation. “You’re welcome to join us when you finish your shift,” Dean shot her a winning grin, and she returned it with her own flirty smile. “Your fella might not like that,” she teased, shifting her gaze to Sam. Dean glanced over as Sam approached the counter; he was about to inform her that it wasn’t like that, they were just brothers, when he saw a mischievous smile suddenly touched Sam’s lips. Dean jumped as Sam passed by and gave him an unexpected smack on the ass; he felt his face redden again as his brother drawled, “See you in the car, honey.” Sam winked at the waitress and headed out the diner’s door. The waitress giggled and Dean shot her a smile and headed for the door himself. Payback, he supposed, for shoving pie in Sam’s face.

As he climbed behind the Impala’s wheel, he glanced over to see that Sam was giving him a smug smirk. “Bitch,” he muttered, starting the car. “Jerk,” laughter traced his brother’s voice, and Dean grinned. 

Several hours later, they were at a pool table in the local bar, shooting a game. Dean took a swig of his beer as he waited for Sam to take his shot. His eyes roamed their surroundings – ever vigilant; Sam had been doing the same since their arrival – and rested on a man who was standing nearby, watching their game. At least he was pretending to watch the game; most of his attention, however, had been on Sam’s ass, every time Sam leaned over the pool table. Sam took his shot and sank his target ball; Dean couldn’t stop his eye-roll as the man spoke up, “Nice shot!” He smirked as his brother straightened and turned toward him. “Yeah, yeah,” he waved a hand before Sam could gloat, “You win. I owe you a beer. Let’s go.” 

Dean was waiting at the bar for their beers when a curvy brunette moved to stand beside him. He shot her a smile, which she readily returned. “Hi there,” she greeted, “I’m Lacy.” “Dean,” he supplied his own name; already he liked where this was going. “You and your friend should join me and my girlfriends,” she invited, turning to nod toward a table. Dean followed her gaze and saw three other girls sitting at a table across the room. Yeah, he definitely liked where this was going. “We might do that,” he agreed. He paid the bartender and picked up the beer bottles, “I’ll grab Sam and we’ll join you in a minute.”

Several minutes later, they were standing next to the table of girls. Introductions had just been made when one of the girls inquired curiously, “So, are you two .. together?” The brothers exchanged exasperated glances – really, they should be used to this by now. Dean was about to tell her that they were brothers when the man whom had been watching them shoot pool stepped next to Sam. He was friends with the girls at the table, obviously. “I hope not,” the man spoke up, in relation to the girl’s question; his grin was little more than a leer, his eyes raking over Sam. The guy looked like he wanted to devour his brother on the spot. Sam shot the man a smile that was partially shy, partially uncomfortable, and Dean’s brows furrowed as he took this in, his ‘protective big brother’ mode kicking up a notch.

He knew his little brother had been with men in the past, and he didn’t have any problem with that. None whatsoever. What he did have a problem with was the way this bastard was eyeing his Sammy like he was a prize piece of meat in a market, ready for the taking. Yeah, no. _That_ wasn’t going to happen. He was going to rip the bastard’s head from his shoulders first. Sam looked like he was about to speak up, probably to clarify that they were brothers. Dean stepped forward before he had a chance, and just as the newcomer laid a hand on Sam’s back. His intention was to lie and say yes, they were together, and to insist that the creep keep his hands to himself. Instead, and for reasons he didn’t possess, he found himself stepping into his brother’s personal space. Sam shot him a questioning glance, brows furrowed slightly as Dean reached a hand up to his neck. It was without any clear thought on his behalf that he pulled his brother’s head down to him and brushed their mouths together. 

From his peripheral vision he could see the leering man step away from Sam; he could see the girls grin (and two of them fan themselves as if they were suddenly overheated); he could see the surprise on his brother’s face. He felt Sam’s hands move to his shoulders – the other was about to shove him away, no doubt. Well now, that wouldn’t do at all. He leaned in closer to his brother; he could feel his brother’s soft gasp against his mouth as he caught Sam’s bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a light nip. His brother’s lips parted and Dean delved in deeper, moving on auto-pilot as he allowed his tongue to explore. He could taste the beer and heat of Sam’s mouth as he claimed it with his tongue and, a moment later, Sam’s own tongue tentatively brushed against his. Dean growled, a low sound in his throat, and caught his brother’s tongue to suck lightly on it. The softest of whimpers escaped Sam’s throat, and Dean tightened his grip on Sam’s head, entwining his fingers in his brother’s longish locks and tugging him closer. He forgot about the leering man watching them, the giggling girls at the table, even the bar around them, as he slid a hand down his little brother’s side and around to his back. He felt the muscles beneath his fingers tense, relax, shift, and he tightened his hold. Sam shifted closer, a barely audible moan that Dean felt more than heard sounding from his throat. He growled, yanked his brother against him and hungrily claimed his mouth.

Endless moments later, Dean pulled his mouth free to catch a breath of air. His green eyes locked with Sam’s as they parted, and he saw the bewilderment (and was that arousal?) etched in his brother’s features. His eyes dropped to Sam’s mouth, taking in the parted, kiss-swollen lips, the unsteady breathing. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to drag his brother out of this bar and back to their shared room. He hadn’t any idea whatsoever where the thoughts were coming from, but his body seemed to be on board. He licked his lips, tasting Sam on them; his brother’s eyes dropped to his mouth, following the movement. Dean smirked slightly as he heard one of the girls say, her voice slightly breathless, “That was so hot.” He never took his eyes off his brother’s face as he spoke, voice husky, “Ladies, if you’ll excuse us..” Dean didn’t wait for an answer as he dropped his hand to Sam’s wrist and pulled him toward the bar’s exit. 

It wasn’t until they were in the Impala and heading for the motel that Dean truly realized what he had just done. He had just – oh, shit. He had just made out with his little brother in the middle of a bar. His little brother. Sam. He swallowed hard and shot Sam a glance; the other man was staring at him, eyes wide. He appeared to be too shocked to speak (for now), and Dean was fine with that. Because, really, he had no idea how to explain what the hell had just happened. 

Minutes later, he was pulling into the motel parking lot and parking Baby in front of their room. He had just killed the engine when Sam finally spoke, “Dean –“ He glanced over at his brother. 

“What – what was that?” 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, dropping his gaze to the steering wheel. He couldn’t hold back his chuckle as he heard his brother whisper “Cristo.” “I’m not possessed, Sammy,” he assured, “I just –“ He fell silent for a moment. “That creep at the bar looked like he wanted to have you for dinner,” he finally said (and boy didn’t that sound lame), “I guess I thought I would persuade him to look elsewhere.” There was a heavy silence in the car, and Dean glanced at his brother. Sam was still staring at him. “I don’t know, okay?” he ran a hand through his short-cropped hair, “I don’t know why I did it. I didn’t even think it through. It was an impulsive –thing. To get the message across to that creep. I just – did.” “O—okay,” the stammered reply made him chuckle again. He glanced at Sam and repeated softly, “I don’t know, Sammy. I’m sorry.” “It’s –“ Sam glanced at his hands, which were resting in his lap, before raising his eyes, “It’s okay.” 

“Yeah?” 

“We’re good,” Sam assured, voice stronger, “We’re okay, Dean.” Dean nodded and opened the car door, “Good. Good.” They climbed out of the car and headed for their motel room. He shot his brother a wry smile as Sam suggested with a chuckle, “Next time you want to protect my virtue, you might just want to try saying I’m not available. Something simple like that.” “I’ll remember that,” he assured as he unlocked the room door and let Sam enter, “Don’t worry, I certainly won’t be -- doing that again!”

As he lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, Dean replayed in his head the kiss in the bar. He had done what he had done to protect Sam’s virtue, as Sam had put it. Yeah, Sam could take care of himself, but Dean was hardwired to protect him. It wasn’t like it was ever going to happen again: he didn’t plan on making a common occurrence out of kissing his brother! He closed his eyes to try to sleep, and his thoughts went right back to that kiss. He cursed beneath his breath as he realized that, maybe, he wouldn’t remind repeating it.


End file.
